Lost
by zashaxander
Summary: Kate shudders when she sees the body. And then she sees the girl... It's her. She might be called Anna, she might be younger, she might be a dancer... But it's her. Suddenly Kate has gone back more than 10 years and her heart is breaking all over again. She is desperate to help but it's deja-vu - everything is falling and there's no way to stop it.
1. Chapter 1

Lost

This story is not exactly AU – it's still Castle and Beckett, set somewhere in Season 5. However, it is very angsty and one of the central characters is completely from my mind. Kate Beckett, of course, is not.

Dedicated to anyone who needs someone to make them feel safe.

* * *

The detective was beautiful. I don't know why I noticed. I mean, it wasn't a likely thing for me to be thinking about. I guess the guy following her around worshipping the ground she walked on helped to draw attention to it, though. He wasn't bad looking, sort of ruggedly handsome. He was taken, obviously. And too old. He looked really sad, devastated. And then I realised that was because of me.

He hung back when she came over. Letting her talk to me, knowing she would be better at it. Knowing she would respond better.

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett. You're Anna Houghton?"

I nodded. Suddenly my throat was too tight for me to speak.

"I have to ask, I'm sorry. Is she-"

"She's my Mom," I spat. "Rose Houghton."

The detective looked as though she wished she could put her hand on my arm. I wished she would. I wished she would pull me into her arms and tell me everything was going to be alright. Like a mother would have done. Like my mother would have done?

The worst part was that I didn't know. I didn't know if she would have. My mother wasn't... I knew she loved me. But she hadn't been very hands on when it came to affection.

"I'm going to have to ask you some questions, Miss Houghton."

I liked that she treated me like an adult. I was 17.

"Anna," I said quietly.

"And you should call me Kate. Do you want to go into a different room?"

She was asking, but really she was telling. There were loads of cops in there, in our living room. I was in a chair facing away from them but I knew what was behind us. I didn't know where to take her. I didn't want to go into my parent's room. I hadn't even called my Dad; he was still at work. He didn't even know. He was going to come back and he didn't even know.

I let her follow me into my room. It was the only other place we could go; our apartment wasn't big. I sat down on the bed and nodded again to tell her that she could sit beside me. I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees. I thought maybe if I curled up small enough I would disappear entirely.

"Tell me what happened," she said quietly. I had known I was going to have to. I had called 911. I had done it all...

"I was coming home from school. I didn't know anyone would be home; it was weird that the door was open. But not that weird. Mom sometimes comes home, she runs her own business so if things are quiet, or if she forgets something, she might come back in the day. And sometimes she works from home anyway. So when the door was open I called out but there was no answer. I walked into the living room and dropped my bag on the floor. She hates that I do that. I walked in further and I saw her. I ran to her and tried to wake her and do CPR, but I knew she was dead. She was cold, her eyes were open."

I looked down at my hands. There was still blood on them. No one had told me. There was blood on my shirt too. Kate saw me looking. I had no idea what to do. I had to clean myself up, but I'd forgotten how. Kate looked over her shoulder; the bathroom was across the hall. I took out another shirt.

"Go on," she said gently. I got up and went to the bathroom. I hadn't even locked the door when I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and threw up violently. Kate was behind me in a second, holding back my hair and saying something. I don't know what, I couldn't hear. I was too confused to be embarrassed. When I had finished being sick she flushed the toilet and closed the lid, then helped me to sit on it. She ran a sink full of warm water and wiped my face with a wet tissue. I felt like a baby and she didn't even know me. She moved on to my hands, wiping away the blood. She handed me the shirt.

I stared at it. I didn't even know what to do with it. I looked up at her but I couldn't read her expression. She didn't speak, she just helped me to take off my shirt and put on the clean one. She threw the one with blood on it in the trash and we went back to my room.

"I called 911 and the cops came. They told me to sit down and asked me some things but they just... Well there were only two of them and they were making other calls."

Kate nodded. "Did you notice anything unusual when you got home, apart from the door?"

I tried to think clearly but I couldn't. "I can't think of anything," I mumbled. It was strange that I wasn't crying. I hadn't cried at all. I didn't know what I was feeling. There wasn't a word... It was nothing I could explain, even to myself. It was nothing I'd felt before. But even books, movies, the news... nothing in any of them was even close to this. It was unimaginable. And yet it was also inside me. I stared at the wall. I glanced at Kate from time to time but I couldn't hold her eyes. I didn't have the energy.

There was something in them, though. Something... something strange.

"My Dad-" I said suddenly.

"When will he be home?"

"I... what time is it now?" My voice sounded vacant, as if it wasn't really mine.

"It's about 5," she said, glancing at a man's watch that she wore on her wrist. I don't know why I noticed it. Maybe because it didn't match the rest of what she was wearing. I mean, it didn't clash. It just... caught my attention somehow.

"He.. he gets back around 6.30," I told her. "I didn't call him... after I called 911 I just stood there, holding the phone..." I trailed off.

"How old are you, Anna?" she asked. I blinked.

"Eighteen," I said. I wondered why she wanted to know. Maybe just curiosity. I wasn't acting eighteen. She was looking after me as though I was five.

"Would you like me to call your father?" she asked. I bit my lip and shook my head. She seemed to understand.

"I'm going to have to ask you some more questions," she began regretfully.

"It's okay," I told her. I sounded so empty. I understood. I knew she would have to ask things. It was her job. She had just watched me be sick, washed me and dressed me as though I was a baby. I could answer her questions.

"Did you notice anything strange at all in your mother's behaviour over the last few days? Any phone calls at odd times, strange moods.. Anything like that?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. It was just... normal."

"She didn't seem distant or preoccupied by anything?"

_This is my mother we're talking about_, I wanted to say. _She was always preoccupied_. Instead I just shook my head. There had been nothing different.

"Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm your mother?"

_I do, sometimes_, said a little voice in my head. I winced. "No," I said. "I can't think of anyone. Everyone liked her."

It was true. Everyone did like her. She didn't really identify with me but we loved each other. We drove each other crazy... But I think I was the only one to ever drive her mad like that.

"And her relationship with your father..?"

I could tell that she hated to ask.

"Fine," I said. "They loved each other. They're great together." _They never really wanted me, _I added in my head. I didn't know why I was thinking like this. My parents loved me. They had a great relationship and they cared for me a great deal, they always wanted what was best for me. They were interested in my life, they paid for me to do the things I enjoyed, they cared about my education...

Kate nodded. "I'll need to talk to your father. I can wait, or I can go and come back..?"

It was a question hiding another question. What she was really asking was, did I need someone to stay with me. My apartment was a crime scene, I realised.

"Do we have to stay somewhere else?" I asked.

She looked at me. "Yes. I mean... you could probably still use your bedrooms. But we have to leave the main room as it is for CSU. Most people prefer to be somewhere else, anyway. Do you have someone you can stay with?"

We would stay with my aunt. I knew already. My father's sister. She was older, she and my Dad got on really well. She liked-had liked, my Mom, too. She had a spare bedroom.

"Yes," I said to Kate. I hoped she couldn't see in my face how much I didn't want to go there. She probably couldn't. My terror and misery could be attributed to other things. Though I hadn't answered her question, I knew she was going to stay. She knew exactly what I needed – she just sad beside me, saying nothing. It was as if she could read my mind. I just needed company. If she'd talked I would have had to answer.

I realised I was shaking again. She noticed too and wordlessly put an arm around me. I wondered if she did this with everyone she had to interview who found a body. I didn't think so. I didn't even know if it was allowed. I closed my eyes but snapped them open almost immediately. When they were closed all I saw was my mother. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I shuddered. Kate pulled me closer to her, still saying nothing. There was a tap on the door. She didn't let go of me; I'd thought she would. It was the man who looked at her as though she was some kind of angel. Maybe she was.

"Are you...?" he started, but trailed off when he saw me. I must have looked terrible. She told him something with her eyes and he nodded.

"I'll see you at home," he said to her. So they were together. I was glad. They looked like a good couple. Suddenly he made eye contact with me. I didn't know what he was thinking but the pain in his eyes was odd for someone who saw dead bodies every day. Surely he had been in a situation like this before?

He left.

"He's... nice," I said eventually. I just wanted to say something.

"I agree," she said quietly.

"Is he a detective too?"

"No. He's a writer. He follows me around for inspiration-"

"Wait. That's Richard Castle?" I asked. I knew I recognised him – it was his picture on the cover of his books.

"Yeah," she said. She smiled. She loved him.

"And you're Nikki Heat. KB. Of course," I said quietly.

"Nikki Heat's fictional. But, yes, I am the inspiration."

Her arm was still around me; we were leaning against the wall, sitting on my bed. It still didn't occur to me that Nikki Heat might be a little more factual than I thought, and that this might explain why Kate was holding me like this, why she understood so completely.

The front door opened. I knew it was my father. I got up off the bed, not knowing what to do. Kate got up with me and we went into the main room. My mother wasn't there any more; lots of the cops had gone too. Kate went up to my father. I just stood there, staring at him as his world fell apart. He pushed past her to see the bloodstain on the carpet, and then he looked at me, his eyes begging me to tell him it wasn't true, that it was all some kind of sick joke. I shook my head.

He was hysterical, screaming and crying. He wanted to see her. I think Kate told him that he would be able to. He kept asking how, how, how? Tears were streaming down his cheeks, he was going crazy. I hadn't ever seen him like that... I felt even worse because I felt almost nothing. I was frozen to the floor. Kate glanced at me and again, I knew she understood.

"Mr Houghton, this is Detective Ryan," she was saying. "He and Detective Esposito are going to ask you a few questions while I talk to your daughter..."

The other detectives lead my father to his room and Kate took me back to mine.

"When they're done talking to him I guess he'll call whoever you're going to stay with?" she asked. I nodded. She took out a business card but wrote another two numbers on it before she handed it to me.

"The printed number's my work number. If you think of anything to do with your mother, call me. The other numbers are my cell number, and Castle's. If you need... anything, even just to talk, call me, at any time. And if you can't get through to me, call him. I'll tell him I've given you the number."

"Okay," I said, the word catching in my throat. I was pretty sure this wasn't common practice either.

After another section of time, I didn't register how long, I heard the other detectives leave the room and she got up. She pulled me into another tight hug.

"Really, call me. For anything," she said. She didn't want to leave me. I didn't get it. I wasn't exactly good company. She left with the detectives and Dad and I were left alone.

"I'll call Sheila," he said. His sister. I went to put some clothes and my toothbrush in a bag. There wasn't much in my room that I cared about. I put in Heat Wave, and after a little deliberation, my scruffy little teddy bear. Dad appeared in the doorway.

"We can go over there now. Are you ready?" he asked. He was barely able to hold back the tears. I could see that he was angry with me. He wanted me to be as upset as he was, he couldn't understand why I wasn't. And I looked like her. I knew I did. A little clone of the woman he loved, but my mind wasn't the same and I wasn't her and he would never see her again...

I remembered my phone charger and put it in my backpack. Then we left. We didn't have to lock the door; there was a cop outside. I got into the car and Dad pulled out into the road. He was crying again. I put my feet up on the seat and rested my chin on my knees.

"Put your feet down, Anna!" he snapped. I didn't even hear him until he yelled it again. I put them down.

We reached Sheila's apartment. She hugged my father. She even hugged me.

"Pete, what happened?" she asked. She went to make him some tea. Her living room was separate from her main room; her main room was the kitchen-dining area. I knew I'd be sleeping on the couch; I went to put my bag on it. She and my father were talking in the kitchen. She was holding him, comforting him while he cried and yelled and broke down in front of her. I went back into the living room. I didn't want to watch.

Kate's card was still in my pocket. I took it out and fiddled with it. I couldn't call her. She'd be going home to Castle. She needed him. They needed each other. If I had to call her I'd call her in working hours, in the morning. This was her time.

Sheila brought me a cup of tea. I sat on the couch to drink it. She didn't try to get me to come sit with them. I don't think either of them wanted me there. I was trying to think but I couldn't get the process going. I wanted to know why, I wanted to work it out but I had no idea. I didn't even know where to start.

At some point Sheila came in, took away the cold tea and handed me some sheets to make up a bed on the couch. I did that. I didn't have anything else to do. I couldn't understand why the world was still moving. Mine had stopped but the day was still going on, into the night, and the sun would come up again tomorrow and another day would start. I didn't get it. I didn't know how there could be any more days.

It was a dream, almost. A nightmare. But I was awake. I knew it was real, but it couldn't be. This kind of thing didn't happen in real life. It happened in Richard Castle's books, maybe. But not in real life.

The bed was made and I went to the bathroom. I barely recognised myself in the mirror. My eyes were like black holes; my face was white. I didn't look sad... I just looked lost. There wasn't a person in there any more. I brushed my teeth but I caught my gum with the bristles and spat blood into the sink. Red blood against the white porcelain.

I retched over the toilet but I hadn't eaten anything and I couldn't be sick. I brushed my teeth again anyway and swallowed some water from the tap. When I went back into the living room all the lights were off. They had gone to bed. I lay down on the couch and closed my eyes – but I had to open them, it was the same as before. The same, except there was no strong, beautiful, kind woman sitting beside me to hold me tight and make me feel safe. I was alone. It was cold. I felt the heater; it was on. I burrowed further under the blankets Sheila had given me and tried to be grown up. I was eighteen, I was an adult. I felt like a tiny child. I wondered if there was a monster in the closet, or maybe under my bed.

I still wasn't crying. Maybe I just didn't believe it yet. Or maybe I was the monster, a soulless creature who didn't feel a thing.

I looked up at the ceiling. I was exhausted. I tried to stay as still as I could, I don't know why. Eventually my eyelids drooped and I couldn't lift them again...

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review! I know it's different but I have a ton of Caskett stories already and I just had this idea and wanted to put it down...


	2. Chapter 2

2

She wasn't dead. She wasn't! It had all been a dream! I ran into the apartment after school and there she was, sitting on the couch with her laptop. She didn't even look up when I came in. Definitely her then. I grinned and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She laughed, surprised.

"Hey, Anna. What's this all about?" she asked. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and held her close.

"I... I had a dream."

She helped me to brush the tears away and laughed.

"A dream at school?"

"A... I guess it must have been on the bus," I said. She laughed again.

"Oh Anna, you're so harebrained! I love you darling," she added, kissing the top of my head.

"I love you too," I said quietly. I hugged her again and she kept her arms around me. But then there was something wet against my stomach. I looked down, confused. Had she been holding a drink? It was warm...

I stepped back screaming. She was covered in blood. There was an expression of total surprise on her face. She tried to speak but she couldn't. She was falling, I tried to help her but she was too heavy and she couldn't stand up and then she was on the floor and there was so much blood so much blood everywhere all over her all over me all over blood all over and I was shaking and screaming and crying and my head was burning and spinning so much I thought I was going to explode and there was blood on my hands on my shirt in my-

Bed. I sat up on the couch shaking. I was covered in a cold sweat. I shuddered. And then I remembered... all of it. The room was dark. The digital clock on the TV said it was only just past midnight. I had slept for just over an hour. I clenched my fists, trying to force myself not to be so afraid. I couldn't do it. I didn't even want to move.

And then I had to. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. It was just acid; I hadn't eaten. My eyes watered but I still wasn't crying. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands and face. I hadn't turned the light on and I looked like a ghost in the mirror with just the light from the hallway. I gripped the sink, suddenly swaying as I tried to stand still. My teeth chattered but the shaking was more to do with fear than cold. I went back to the living room and sat down on the couch, curling myself up into a ball as I had done earlier.

My fingernails were digging into my palms; my head was buzzing... I wasn't even thinking when I took out my phone and the card the detective had given me the day before. I entered the number of her mobile and pressed 'call', barely registering what I was doing.

"Beckett," she answered on the second ring.

"It's... It's Anna," I said quietly, not even sure how I got the words out.

"Are you okay?" she asked immediately.

"I.. I had a dream," I said eventually.

"Can you talk to your Dad?" she asked, but I could hear in her voice that she already knew the answer. She was moving around now, and she said something to someone else that I couldn't hear.

"He's asleep," I said quietly.

"Give me your address," she said simply. I told her where I was. I trusted her. It never occurred to me not to. She hung up after saying she would be there in ten minutes. I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same t-shirt she had helped me put on earlier. I pulled on some leggings and a hoodie and tried to sit still. I couldn't. Terror still flooded through my body. Every breath of air outside the window, every noise from the street... I was shaking uncontrollably. When I stretched out my fingers there were four little crescents of blood on each of my hands.

She was outside the door. It had been both a moment and an eternity; I'd been waiting for her, but I couldn't account at all for what had happened to the time between when I put the phone back in my pocket and when she tapped lightly on the wood. I opened the door and let her in.

"Are you alright?" she asked me. I decided not to tell her about my hands. I nodded. She took me through to the kitchen and found a glass which she filled with water. She told me to drink.

"What do you like to eat, Anna?" she asked quietly. I shook my head.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled.

"That wasn't what I asked."

I shrugged. "I guess I like most things." I didn't know why she wanted to know. But there was something about the way she spoke which told me that I had to answer. She glanced around the room.

"Is it alright for you to leave?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said uncertainly.

"Just to take you out for some food. You haven't eaten since this morning."

I stared at her. How did she know?

"Experienced guess." She answered my unspoken question. She was a detective, I supposed. She would know what people were like when someone they loved... She would know what people were like.

"I can come with you," I said. She nodded. I went to get my purse but she smiled and told me it was on her. I wondered if she needed to talk to me more.

We ended up going to an all night coffee place. She bought me a decaf.

"How did you know I like coffee?" I asked, intrigued at the way she seemed to know me so well.

"Another guess, this time a lucky one. You were more likely to than not – lots of people like coffee."

I tried to smile. She was being so sweet to me. But somehow my muscles had forgotten how to smile.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," I remembered to say.

"Don't worry – you didn't. I was just watching a movie with Castle."

"What movie?" I asked, mostly in an attempt not to let it get silent again.

"Some action thing, a woman killing off all these people... It was his turn to choose and I wasn't really concentrating."

I nodded.

"Thank you," I said. I should have said it sooner. She smiled and sipped her coffee.

"Always, honey. I... I know this isn't a usual thing for a cop to do. But, firstly, I'm not an ordinary cop. And secondly... I mean, it shouldn't make a difference but you remind me of a girl I knew who was involved in a very similar case."

"Was she..." I began to ask. I wanted to know how this other girl had behaved, if she had behaved as strangely as I was.

"There's no right way to react, Anna. This isn't something you're supposed to be able to deal with," she said, understanding what I wanted to know. "I just... I have some knowledge about this kind of thing and I want to help you if I can."

I wondered what she meant. I didn't know how she could understand. But she was there. She was there so I didn't have to be alone.

I finished my coffee and told her I should probably go back to Sheila's. Kate nodded.

"Call me in the morning," she said. I knew that I would. I didn't think it was polite or proper, but I knew that I would. I had to.

She drove me back to the building and walked me to the door or the apartment.

"I wish I didn't have to leave you," she said.

"It's okay," I replied, my voice coming out much steadier than I'd thought I would be able to manage. "I... This is my life now. Nothing's going to change. I have to start coping with it."

She hugged me, then. I just stood there in her arms feeling nothing. I knew it was nice of her, that she was incredibly kind. She was putting herself out because she actually cared. This wasn't just a job for her. I thought she was wonderful. All this was going on in my brain, yet I felt nothing. It was like a scientific assessment; I had no emotional reaction. I wasn't reacting to anything.

I went back to my bed on the couch and she left. I hoped she wouldn't worry about me too much. I hoped Castle wouldn't mind that I'd taken her away from him for an hour. I hoped...

* * *

My phone rang and I knew it would be her. She'd just woken up from the first nightmare. I knew I'd have to go over there before she even spoke; the conversation was mainly for me to make sure she'd be okay with that. I looked over at Rick. When I hung up I was already hurrying out of the door but I spared him a few seconds.

"I'm sorry-" I began.

"Don't be. I know this is a tough one for you. Help her. I want you to."

"You sure?"

"Always," he said, kissing me. I kissed him back; I needed it. It reminded me that I was alive, that I was no longer where Anna was.

"You can finish the movie without me," I said. He chuckled.

"You weren't paying attention to the first half, don't give me permission as though it's a gift."

I laughed. "Enjoy it. I won't be too long. I'll try to get her to drink something, at least."

"You say that as though you know she won't have eaten or drunk anything."

"I do know. I... She's so much like I was," I said, slightly uncertain.

"She even looks like you," he commented. "It... when I saw her, I saw you when you were nineteen and-"

He suddenly looked terribly sad again. "So did I. But I'm not there any more. What we need to do now is make sure Anna's okay, and get justice for her mother."

He nodded. "I love you," he said to me. I needed that as well. I didn't say it back, though. Neither of us had really said it yet; I was surprised that he had. But he'd said it before so it was... He had more freedom to say it than I did. He didn't mind that I didn't say it back. I mean... I did love him. It was just... Me and my walls. He was used to them. It wasn't the time. But he knew I needed to know I was loved so in that moment he told me what I needed to hear. I kissed him by way of an answer. He knew what it meant.

I'd say it soon. We both knew I would.

I drove as fast as I legally could to the address Anna had given me. She let me in. She looked like a ghost – a ghost of my teenage self as well as a ghost of the girl she'd been that morning. I asked her about food but I could tell she wasn't going to eat. Just like I had refused, for days. I decided I'd save up being more forceful for the next day. I got her to drink some water and then took her to a coffee shop. She would go for coffee, I knew that because I had.

She didn't talk much. She kept remembering her manners, she was worrying about how I would feel. She asked if she'd woken me, she thanked me for coming... She looked vacant. She was shaky but she wasn't crying. She wouldn't have cried at all yet. She would be feeling completely empty; I knew. I didn't know what to say because I hadn't wanted anyone to say anything. I hadn't wanted to be alone but I... I hadn't wanted anything. I had been terrified. Terrified of something I couldn't even pinpoint.

She would be angry next. I could see it coming, the edges already in her eyes. Tomorrow, even, she might be there. Furious with the world, searching for targets but having none. She wasn't close to her father or the aunt she was staying with. I'm good at reading people, it's part of being a detective. Anna didn't want to be there. She was sleeping on the couch; I'd seen into the living room when I went to pick her up.

I was worried that she didn't have her father. I hadn't had mine either but... I had him now. And the problem hadn't been a bad relationship to start with... I always knew that he loved me. I wondered if I should talk to him. He was devastated. I didn't know if Peter Houghton would ever be the same again. And he was a suspect. He had an alibi but it was weak – he had been at work but no one could actually say that they'd seen him for all the time in the TOD window. I didn't think it was him but he gave me a funny feeling in my gut. He made me uncomfortable. I couldn't tell if this was because of Anna or something more.

Anna was still at school. She would have her finals soon. I wanted to help her through those, too. I had messed up college and gone a different way. But Anna was behind – my high school grades had been unaffected, so were good enough to get me in anywhere. Anna seemed smart. But she didn't have those grades yet, and she would need them.

I took her back to the apartment and she became even colder and more distant. She was already building walls. I didn't know how to stop her. I wished I could; it was... People always seem to ask each other, if you could go back in time and change something about your life, what would you change? And although I didn't believe in regretting your past or dwelling on it at the expense of your future, if I'd changed something, I'd have changed how I acted, what happened to me, when I was where Anna was. And then there was Anna. I had to do something.

Rick was waiting for me when I got back. He'd finished the movie and he was on the couch with his laptop.

"Are you writing?" I asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

"No," he said, closing the laptop. "I mean, yes, sort of, but not the finished thing. Just ideas. I can do it any time. How was Anna?"

I liked that he remembered her name, that she mattered to him as well.

"She was... not good. I don't know what I can do to help her."

"Probably just being there is something. She's lucky to have you."

"She's not lucky, Rick."

He met my eyes and I knew he understood. "I know, Kate," he said gently. "But you'll be good for her."

I nodded. I hoped that he was right. "I want to be. I want... It's as though I'm getting another chance to go through this time right. Only this time I have hindsight and experience and training... I can make things better for her," I said. I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince him.

"I'm sure you can. You always do. You're fair, you're kind, you care about the victims and their families. You care about Anna. We'll catch her mother's killer and make things better for her."

I nodded again but he could see I was unhappy. He asked me the question with his expression.

"I don't know how to help her," I said. "I was there... but I didn't want anything. I can see what she's feeling; it's exactly what I felt. But I only stopped feeling it by building up a wall around my heart and not letting anyone behind it until... well, until you."

He kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, not passionate, just understanding. A promise, too, that he wouldn't let me hide away again, that he would always keep me safe.

"I don't have the answers," he said quietly. "But I know you'll do what's right. It's good that she's talking to you. Maybe someone to talk to might have helped you too. Maybe she'll open up to you instead of shutting herself off."

"Maybe," I said. I tried to believe him. I wanted to. What he was saying was sensible. He could be right. I let him hold me close and I relaxed in his arms. I thought about Anna, alone on her couch in that miserable apartment, and had to force myself not to get back in my car and bring her here, where at least I could be sure people would be looking after her. I would speak to her in the morning.

I fell asleep in Rick's arms. I felt so weak for needing to but he just knew and did it, as if he needed it too. I felt almost guilty when I thought about Anna again but there was nothing I could do. Even if I could rescue her, I couldn't bring her mother back, and I couldn't live the rest of her life for her. She would have to cope alone. I didn't think my way of doing it, especially to begin with, had been the right way... But I didn't have anything to offer. So I curled up in the arms of my protector and concentrated on not falling back into the pit myself.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! What did you think? Also, thank you so much for all the follows and reviews for the first chapter. I'm writing in a different style from my usual one; I hope it's working and that you like it! Please review and keep reading! Lots of love, Z xxx


	3. Chapter 3

3

When I woke up at 7am the next morning the first thing I did was check my phone, but she hadn't called yet. I tried not to worry but I knew she would be awake. Rick saw my face as I turned around and he jumped up and stood in front of me. He didn't tell me not to worry, though. I think he knew it would be pointless. He just gave me a quick hug, then bent his knees so his eyes were level with mine.

"Help her, Kate," he said. He used my first name. He only did that when it was really serious. "Help her, but don't get lost in this, okay?"

I nodded. I was glad he was being so understanding – but in his understanding he also understood how close this case was taking me to the edge, to a very dangerous place where I hadn't been for months now. As I looked into his eyes, I could see that he was worried too. We went into the kitchen to get coffee. Together. Usually one of us would have gone while the other started getting ready but today he knew I didn't want to be alone.

"She's alone, though," I said to myself quietly.

"No she isn't," Rick said. I jumped, surprised that he'd heard me. "She isn't alone because she has you."

"And who am I? Some detective... She doesn't know me and I don't know her. I might know what she's going through but that doesn't mean I know how to help. I just feel like I have to..."

"Which is one of the things that makes you such a good person."

I blushed but he stared me down, forcing me to acknowledge his words. He handed me a mug of coffee and we began to talk about the case. It was easier than talking about Anna.

It was a difficult one. Nothing had been stolen from the apartment and the door hadn't been forced – things which pointed strongly to the murderer being someone the victim knew. Rose Houghton had been respected and admired at work; she was a journalist. Her colleagues said she always found stories which represented the 'little guy', she'd had a thing for helping people who were in difficulty and up against something that was too big for them to fight. Her husband, Peter, worked in a shop... From what I could tell, Rose's income had been what supported the family. Peter seemed to adore her though; he was devastated now.

Our first thought had been an issue with one of the stories Rose had either printed or been working on. There were a couple which had caused people to lose business or popularity; one had even sparked a police investigation. But those involved with the criminal case were either cleared or in prison, and there was nothing strong about any individual in any of the stories we had read.

Rick was interested in the case for obvious reasons. The death of a fellow writer had him angered and worried. But he also cared a lot about Anna. She was too close in age to Alexis, too similar to her, for him to be as objective as he usually was. Though her pull on him wasn't as strong as it was on me, he felt it too. This wounded child whom we had to help.

My phone rang. It was 7.30am. The ID told me it was Anna.

"Beckett," I said automatically as I answered.

"Hi..." she began slowly.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" I asked her. I could have asked how she was but it would have been pointless. I knew how she was. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"No," she said quietly, as though confessing to a crime.

"Try to have breakfast, Anna," I said gently. She had to eat. When my... I'd had a spell of not eating which brought on several fainting episodes and a great deal of worry about me from my friends and teachers at college. I only really got over it a few weeks into the academy, when I realised I was never going to be strong enough physically unless I started eating well. Food still made my stomach churn and was as exciting as cardboard, but I got stronger, and being bodily stronger helped me to heal. I wondered if Anna did any sports. That would be a good motivation. She had the body of a dancer. The flexibility too; when she'd curled up on the bed she'd folded into herself in a way I could not have managed. I'd ask her.

"I... I'm sorry," she said eventually.

"Don't be sorry. You've nothing to be sorry for. Is your father awake yet?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"But you're still in the living room with the door closed?"

There was a pause. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you don't want to talk to him, Anna. And it's very understandable. But you're going to have to leave that room sometime. The sooner the better."

"I just... I don't know what to say. I should be crying and screaming and... I'm not. I can't. I even tried. I tried to cry but I couldn't. So now he looks at me like I'm a cold hearted monster."

"You're not, Anna. He knows you're not. People react differently to grief... just because you're not projecting it outwardly doesn't mean you don't feel."

"But I... _don't _feel," she said. She sounded terrified. "All I feel is... empty. Cold. Nothing seems to matter any more."

I wished I was there, I wished I could take her hand and tell her I'd been there and felt exactly what she was feeling and it didn't mean there was something wrong with her. I'd been sure that there was something horribly wrong with me. But it had only taken a few days. I had still been in denial, when I didn't feel. I had felt empty because I couldn't face the misery. I hadn't accepted her death. The emptiness turned to anger as I had to accept what had happened, and the anger turned to misery. I liked anger best.

"What's happening to you isn't unusual," I told her carefully. "Your mind is protecting itself. This happens to a lot of people."

"But not my father. And he loved her far more than I did."

It had slipped out. I could tell. It was the first real thing she'd said.

"You were feeling something then," I told her. Guilt. She really was like me.

"It's a fact," she said, but I could hear the question in her voice. "She and my dad... were so in love. I was an accident. They tried to say a happy accident, but they'd have been just as happy without me. I know that she loved me. But... I don't know how much I really loved her."

I winced. Poor kid. She was taking so much on herself. "Don't over think it, Anna. She was your mother and I can tell you loved her. Everyone questions themselves when someone dies."

"I... what can I say to my Dad?"

I thought about it. I didn't know what I had said to mine. Pretty soon it had stopped mattering because he had been too drunk to notice.

"Just say normal things. I know it sounds strange but say would he like some coffee or anything from the store. Do you have school, Anna?"

"I, uh..."

"Not today. But you have to go back."

"Why?"

"Because you still have your whole life ahead of you," I said. The 'why' had been childish and she knew it. She seemed a little embarrassed now.

"Sorry. I... I understand. I'll get my stuff."

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to."

I laughed, a small, humourless thing. "Yes I do. It's a crime scene."

"Oh," she said. She hadn't thought of that. Then she thought of something else.

"Is my Dad coming to see... to see her, today?"

"I think so. I'll have to call him once I've spoken to the ME."

"I don't want to go."

"You don't have to."

"I... I can't stay here with Sheila," she said quietly. "That's so... selfish. But she hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you but-" Rick was gesturing at me. He thought that she could go to the loft, that he would stay with her. _We can talk about Nikki_, he mouthed.

"Okay," I said into the phone. "Do you want to come to Castle's place?"

"What?" She hadn't been expecting this offer. The 'I can't stay with Sheila' had been an accidental release of a personal worry. She hadn't wanted me to fix it. She'd just said it. But it was good. It showed she was beginning to trust me. I hoped she would let me help her.

"Castle won't... see the ME with your father and me. He'll be at home. And he said you could come over and talk about Nikki Heat."

I could feel her smile. It was strange how a person could be hurting so much yet still be happy about something. I knew she would feel guilty in a second – but she would also want to follow the good feeling.

"It's okay to want something, Anna," I said, knowing from her silence that she was debating with herself. "She wouldn't want you to be miserable."

"I... I'll come over."

"I'll give Castle the address and he'll pick you up in an hour."

I gave a statement so she couldn't refuse. That was a cop thing, but it was also a Beckett thing. Or a Johanna thing. My mother had never asked me if I wanted to do something I had to do – or even something she wanted me to do. She practically compelled me to do things. This technique of giving orders which had to be obeyed came in very useful for my job, but for someone like Anna it worked for a different reason. She was lost and had no idea what to do. Being made to do something would be comforting. I had my own experiences of this as well.

* * *

She told me Richard Castle would be coming to pick me up in an hour. RICHARD CASTLE. Super famous novelist RICHARD CASTLE. It was like a dream. Or a nightmare. Or a mixture of both... I couldn't understand how I could feel _good_. I should be sobbing! My first emotion shouldn't be happy.

And suddenly I was angry. Angry that it had to happen now. Why did my only chance to meet one of my favourite authors have to coincide with something so awful? Why did my mother have to die? Who would even want to kill her? Why didn't my father understand? Why did we have to stay with Sheila when she so clearly disliked me? Why did I have to go to school? It was going to be terrible, I knew. And then I was thinking about myself and feeling selfish and guilty and angry with the world and with her for dying and with Castle for being here at totally the wrong time and most of all with ME.

I stood up and kicked the couch. It hurt my toe. I kicked it again. I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream and curse and tell God he was an idiot and if he existed he was a bastard. I wanted to shout at my stupid mother in heaven. Why did she have to be such a martyr?

And then there was the guilt again. Everything I thought seemed to be selfish and cruel. I was disgusted with myself. I threw on some clothes, I needed to shower but it could wait. I went into the main room and stared at my father. He stared back. I was angry with him now. Why couldn't he understand me? Why did he always have to think the worst of me, to judge me when all I'd ever wanted was to make him and my mother proud, to make them feel like deciding to keep me had been more than just better than neutral? He thought I was cold. But now I was HOT. Burning with anger and rage...

And more guilt. I still wasn't being fair. He had just lost the love of his life and here I was glaring daggers at him because he wasn't thinking about me all the time. Maybe I was as bad as he thought. Maybe I was worse. My head was churning, my anger with the world was bubbling and boiling, but boiling inwardly. It was turning on me. I was the one to be angry with. No one else deserved my anger.

Food. She told me I was supposed to eat. Who was she to tell me what to do? She wasn't my mother! My mother was dead!

I tipped some cereal into a bowl with a shaking hand. I spilled some. Sheila was there; she sighed dramatically and cleaned up the tiny mess. She passed me some milk. I wanted to slosh it deliberately. I didn't know what was happening to me. One minute I was empty and cold, then excited, then furious, then shaking with rage, then just angry with myself, then wanting to behave like a petulant child.

I was back to cold and guilt again. I poured milk on the cereal and spooned some into my mouth. I tried to chew and swallow but it got stuck in my throat. I gulped some water to free the food but I drank to much too quickly and I ended up having to rush to the bathroom to be sick. I heard Sheila sigh again and locked myself in the little white room so I didn't have to face her for a minute. I didn't look at the mirror. I cleaned myself up and brushed my teeth, then went out again. Sheila and my father were talking. I thought of Kate, the only person who seemed to get it at all, and went back to my soggy cereal. At least it would be doing something.

I was still sitting in front of the miserable little bowl when Sheila let Castle in through the front door.

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A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!


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